Wrecked
by Roth
Summary: This is kind of a missing scene type story for the episode Breaking Point. It is similar to the story Shattered that I wrote, but this one is from Charlie's POV.
1. Chapter I: High Beams

Title: Wrecked

Author: Roth

Rating: T

Spoilers: None

Disclaimer: I do not own the idea, characters, nor concept of Numb3rs.

Summary: This is kind of a missing scene type story for the episode _Breaking Point. _It is similar to the story _Shattered_ that I wrote, but this one is from Charlie's POV.

Note: This will be the last story I write under the name Roth on . Needless to say, this will probably be my last _Numb3rs_ story ever. After this story is done, I will retire the Roth account. No more posts, stories, or archive adding will be done under this name. I have two other accounts on which I will continue to use, but with college this fall, I just can't keep all three accounts going. Now, for the story.

**Wrecked**

Chapter I: High Beams

"_You don't get to choose how you're going to die or when. You can decide how you're going to live now." Joan Baez_

When I first saw the blinding lights in my rearview mirror I was just plain annoyed. I mean, come on, who really drives around LA with floodlights on full blast. Besides, I was still upset over my conversation with Don; it hadn't occurred to me until about five minutes after the interview was over that I maybe shouldn't have said so much, but at the same time, I'm not an agent. Don shouldn't just expect me to know right off the top of my head when to stop talking.

"Thanks, Dopey. I don't really need to see while I'm driving," I muttered as I looked into the rearview mirror at the blinding lights. I was really glad that no one else was in the car to hear my semi-childish comment; Amita would never have let me live it down.

"Alright, fine. You know what go ahead...go ahead." I decided to be the mature one in the situation (mostly to make up for my "Dopey" comment) and pulled off onto the shoulder of the road to let the jerk pass. My stomach did a small flip-flop when the truck pulled right along side the road with me. I turned to to stare at the truck for a moment, but then tried to brush it off. If the guy wanted to be weird, far be it from me to stop him.

I pulled away from the side of the road, and the truck followed suit. I made the decision it was time to try and lose this creep. After a quick unsignalled turn and cutting across two lanes, the guy was still on my tail.

"What do you want?" I demanded of the truck, after turning back toward the road; something told me I didn't really want to know the answer.

The truck suddenly got right up along side me, and I was afraid they were going to try and run me off the road. At the sime time, I noticed that the truck had work done on its front. You'll be amazed at what your mind can noticed even when it's in the grip of fear.

I noticed several turn off roads on my right side and took my chance. I turned quickly and watched as the truck continued on down the road. I let out a breath that I wasn't sure how long I'd been holding.

For a moment, I considered calling Don, but he was so mad at me earlier that he probably...I was not calling Don. I didn't know who those guys were or what they wanted, but I did know one thing for sure: I was not driving home tonight. Man, I hoped there was a pillow somewhere in my office.

**TBC**


	2. Chapter II: Compress

Title: Wrecked

Author: Roth

Rating: T

Spoilers: None

Disclaimer: I do not own the idea, characters, nor concept of Numb3rs.

Summary: This is kind of a missing scene type story for the episode _Breaking Point. _It is similar to the story shattered that I wrote, but this one is from Charlie's POV.

Note: I forgot to mention before that this is only going to be a four chapter story, just like _Shattered_.

**Wrecked**

Chapter II: Compress

"_We are here on Earth to do good for others. What the others are here for, I don't know." Wystan Hugh Auden_

After I saw the car in my rear view mirror, which so rudely had their brights on, turn, I let out a sigh of relief. I could hear my brother trying to get my attention, and I turned my mind back to our conversation. "Yeah...uh...you know what I'm sorry...uh yeah I'll be there in like...uh...fifteen minutes, okay?"

"Yeah."

"Alright. Bye."

I flipped my phone shut with a sigh and tossed it into the passengers seat. As I drove, I couldn't help but notice the fact I was compulsively glancing in my rear view. Call me paranoid, I know I _was_ beginning to think I was, but I did not want that truck to show up behind me again.

I'd finally gotten myself to relax a little bit, which lasted a whole three seconds (believe me, I counted), when a vehicle parked on the shoulder of the road caused my heart to leap to my throat. I stared at it as I drove past, and fear gripped my mind when I saw those high beams turn on. My breathing quickened, and I did the only thing I could think to do; I reached for my phone to call Don.

Before I got the chance, the truck slammed into my back end, and the phone went flying from my hands landing out of my reach on the floor of the passenger's side. I gripped the wheel tightly and tried my best to focus on my driving.

"Oh God," I muttered to myself as the truck started gaining on me again. Suddenly, all I could think about was all the stuff I would be leaving behind if I died: Dad, Don, Amita (definitely Amita), Larry, all my unfinished Cognitive Emergence work...

Another slam into the back of my car brought me out of my thoughts, and I gripped the wheel even tighter as the car spun out of my control. I never regained control as it careened down the hill, and my car finally stopped when it slammed into something. I later found out they were trash cans.

For only about a tenth of a second (I didn't count that time), I remained still, clutching my head in a daze, and then I saw the truck pull up and brake right next to my car; I knew I had to act fast. As the truck doors opened, I unhooked my seatbelt. I continued moving when I saw the guy walking toward my car pull out a gun, and I kept moving, although I think my heart may have stopped, when the bullet shattered the glass of the driver's side window. I threw open the passenger door and all but fell out of the car. I ran on my hands and knees to some bushes and trees off the side of the rode to use as cover.

The guy continued walking toward my car, and I tried to think fast (which isn't easy when you're not sure your heart has even restarted yet). My keys were in my hands, which was odd considering I don't remember taking them from the car, and I pressed the alarm button while praying. The car's lights started going off, and the alarm sounded. The guy suddenly looked very nervous as another car pulled up to ask him if he was alright and lights in a house turned on, and he ran back to the truck.

I don't remember how long after the truck was gone that I remained in my hiding spot, I think it was until another car pulled up and got out to inspect my car. When they asked me if it was my car, and I nodded and then threw up. I think they were the ones who called the police.

XVIIIIV

I was sitting in the back of an ambulance with a cold compress pressed to my aching head as an EMT checked my blood pressure when Don pulled up in his SUV. I don't think the car had even stopped moving before he leaped from the driver's seat and ran over, ducking under the police tape; I don't even know how he remembered to shut the door.

"Hey!" he shouted, slowing his pace and walking over to me. "Are you alright?"

The EMT removed the blood pressure cuff as I answered. "I'm alright. It's alright."

"Well, you're gonna see a doctor..." Don was turning into Big Brother Man. He turned toward the EMT. "I don't care what he says."

I tried to stop my brother's over-protectiveness in the most devious way possible: agreeing with him. "Believe me, I'm not going to refuse any medical attention, this actually kind of smarts." I know it probably sounds like I was whining, but my head really did hurt; I'm not sure, but I think I hit it on the steering wheel.

My ploy didn't work; instead, Don leaned down to get a closer look at my head. "Let me see." I removed the compress, and Don lifted some of my hair to get a better look at my forehead. Then David stepped in.

"Uh..Charlie..uh...do you have idea who might have..uh...tried to do this?"

I tried to come up with anyone, but then shook my head. "I-I couldn't see them that well." Don was staring at me, and I pressed the compress back to my head and leaned forward; it didn't work I could still feel him staring at me.

"Think about it for a second," David continued. "Anyone hanging out with you on campus...maybe at any of your book signings."

Don joined in. "Did you flunk any students or get into any fights with any of them? Anything like that?"

I lifted my head and shook it; that really aggravated my headache. "No. My-My students aren't trying to kill me...although sometimes it seems like they are." I tried to laugh, but it came out as more of a wheeze; I knew I had to tell them. "That wasn't the first time I saw that truck; I think they followed me last night."

Don stared at me for a second; he almost looked hurt. "What are you talking about? Why didn't you tell me?"

I took a deep breath. "Because...you were already so pissed about my interview-"

Don tried to cut me off. "Charlie..."

"So I just didn't tell you."

"Come on, Charlie, come on." He leaned down to look me in the eye. "You can come to me; you can come to me with anything."

I didn't say anything back, and Don slowly stood up; he still looked hurt. I was relieved when Colby came over.

"Hey guys, can I talk to you for a minute?" He gestured with his head, and I knew he meant away from me.

"Yeah," replied Don. He cast one more glance at me and then walked away with Colby and David; I merely pressed the compress back to my forehead. I watched them talk, but they were far enough away that I couldn't actually hear what they were saying amidst the noise of the police. At one point, Don glanced back at me, and I just stared. I finally just put my head down.

After a few seconds, I sat back up as the EMT told me to put the compress back on and waited for Don to come back over. Deep down, I knew the conversation about me not telling him wasn't over, but dealing with it was low on my list of priorities as the moment. I was actually relieved, however, when Don stopped talking and walked back over to the ambulance.

**TBC**


	3. Chapter III: Numbers on a Page

Title: Wrecked

Author: Roth

Rating: T

Spoilers: None

Disclaimer: I do not own the idea, characters, nor concept of Numb3rs.

Summary: This is kind of a missing scene type story for the episode _Breaking Point. _It is similar to the story shattered that I wrote, but this one is from Charlie's POV.

Note: The truth is I was meaning to do a completely different scene for this chapter, but I had watched the episode for awhile, and forgot the scene wasn't part of this one, so instead of deleting all this wonderful work, I changed the story. Enjoy!

**Wrecked**

Chapter III: Numbers on a Page

"_I, a stranger and afraid, in a world I never made." A. E. Houseman_

Amita stood next to me as I watched David do a search of my office; to put it bluntly, I couldn't believe it.

"Aw, come on man. Now this is ridiculous. There's not going to be anyone in my office."

"You know, Charlie, you really can't be too careful." I could understand why Amita was siding with David, but I really just wanted to forget the incident from the night before and let my life get back to normal.

"You're wrong." I know I was going to regret saying _that_ later. "This is proof right here that you can be too careful."

David turned around. "Charlie, if anything happened to you on my watch, Don would have my head." That effectively shut me up because well...it was true. "Kay? Let me do my job." He scanned the office a little more and then turned back to Amita and me. "It's clear."

"Thank you." I entered my office. "Did you bring the numbers?" David pulled them from the inside of his jacket and handed them to me.

"What numbers?" asked Amita, walking over to the desk; I was not looking forward to this conversation. "What is that?"

David decided to explain. "It's..uh..a list of numbers we found in Bonnie Parks's office."

Amita looked between David and I, and he did the smart thing by turning away. "Charlie, you're not still working on this case?"

I opened the paper and started to look at the numbers. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Amita looked at me like I was crazy, which I probably was. "I mean do I really need to explain this to you?"

I shook my head. "What happened shouldn't change anything." It did though. "In fact, I'd rather just forget that it happened at all." I _really _would.

"Oh, that's a really rational plan." I could tell David was beginning to get uncomfortable. "I mean it really works for ostriches." Great, I was now a bird who shoved my head underground. I ignored her and continued looking at the numbers. She got frustrated and reached over to take the pages from my hands.

"Charlie, please. You should not be working-"

I pulled the pages back and turned toward her. "I have to!"

Amita stared at me, looking hurt. I was no longer an ostrich; I was an ass. "Okay," she said after a moment and then walked out of my office.

David turned back to me and tried to lighten the mood. "Hey...uh...if I could have ducked out during the middle of that, I would have."

"Yup." I looked back to the door Amita'd left through. "Me too."

I really just wanted to forget that any of this had happened, but it was getting harder and harder, and now, I'd made myself a complete ass in front of Amita. Things were not going well.

**TBC**


	4. Chapter IV: Overlook

Title: Wrecked

Author: Roth

Rating: T

Spoilers: None

Disclaimer: I do not own the idea, characters, nor concept of Numb3rs.

Summary: This is kind of a missing scene type story for the episode _Breaking Point. _It is similar to the story shattered that I wrote, but this one is from Charlie's POV.

Note: So...that's it people. I hope you enjoy both this story and all my other stories I have posted. Feel free to review or yell or do whatever. I bid you all adue. PS: I will still be reading stories, so no one else stop writing for _Numb3rs_. I need entertainment.

**Wrecked**

Chapter IV: Overlook

"_Making a wrong decision is understandable. Refusing to search continually for learning is not." Philip_

I knew that despite what I kept telling everyone I was not "fine." I didn't need my jumping at the sound of the dropped book or my, for lack of a better word, "freak out" at the house to tell me that. All this aside, I still had no idea why Colby had driven up to this parking lot.

"What are we doing here?" I asked, rubbing my arm as I walked over to look out at the city below.

Colby took a second to respond as he too went to look at the city. "When I was being held on that freighter, and they had me handcuffed, and Lancer was sticking me with needles, there was one thing that kept me going, and that was knowing that my team was coming for me." He stood up on the concrete divider to get a better look at the city. "No matter how screwed up things had gotten that you and David and Megan and Don were working hard, and you were gonna come through that door."

I'd never heard any of this before, but Colby was far from done. He stepped down from the divider and turned toward me. "The thing is Bonnie Parks, she doesn't have a team. She's got nobody. And she's locked up, handcuffed, in the dark, I don't know what. But what I do know is that I wanna be the one who comes through that door for her."

I suddenly knew why Colby had brought me out here, but I also knew that I couldn't help. I started shaking my head. "I wanna help you, but I-I-I cannot control what's going on in my head. You don't understand."

It was Colby's turn to shake his head. "No. Now that's the thing, Charlie." He sat down on the guardrail. "I do understand, cause I went through this exact same thing when I first saw combat in Afghanistan. You have to talk about the attack. Every detail, every memory, every thought that went through your head when it was happening. You-You can't keep it all locked inside your head. You can't just keep going around telling everybody that you're fine."

I looked down at my feet; I never really thought it would be Colby who could relate to me about what happened. "Well, obviously I'm not fine."

"That's why you've got to do something about it." He got up and walked toward me. "It doesn't matter how scared you were." I looked at him from the corner of my eye. "It doesn't matter if you wet your pants, man." He pointed to the empty space all around. "There's nobody out here that's gonna hear it." Suddenly, this all made sense.

For a moment, I didn't respond, and Colby almost looked like he thought his plan had failed. Then, I decided it was time. "I-I was just...driving..."

I told Colby everything. Like he said, every detail, memory, and thought. From when the truck first hit my car to thinking I wouldn't see any of my family and friends again, and he just listened. When I was finally finished, I felt drained, but at the same, I felt better than I had since it happened. A few minutes after I was done, Colby asked me if I was ready to go back. I nodded; I suddenly had control over my head again.

**Finem**


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